


Heading East

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outside of Tucson, Sam gets bored.  Or at least, that’s what Dean’s assuming because there really wasn’t any other reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heading East

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal 8-28-16.

**Title:** Heading East  
**Author:** [](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/profile)[**dragonspell**](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/)  
**Series:** Supernatural  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None; sheer freaking porn.  
**Summary:** Outside of Tucson, Sam gets bored. Or at least, that’s what Dean’s assuming because there really wasn’t any other reason.  
**Word Count:** 3425  
**A/N:** For [](http://entropyrose.livejournal.com/profile)[**entropyrose**](http://entropyrose.livejournal.com/) who asked me for Sam blowing Dean in a moving Impala. This isn't that fic but it's the thought that counts, right? =)

  
Outside of Tucson, Sam gets bored. Or at least, that’s what Dean’s assuming because there really wasn’t any other reason.

They’d just wrapped up a case the previous night—a standard salt and burn if you considered a homicidal ghost attached to a buried handkerchief standard—and were heading east. No where in particular, just east, because you couldn’t get much more west than Arizona and Dean didn’t want to head to California right now. Or, really ever. Dean really couldn’t blame California for his feelings on the state as it really had nothing to do with the land mass at all but he also had no plans on really ever setting foot in it again. Bad enough to know that Sammy had left him once for it already.

So he’s been drumming his hands on the Impala’s steering wheel, heading definitely east, listening to Master of Puppets and watching the flat desert slide by when he feels a large, solid hand sliding over his thigh. He stops jiggling his leg (when had he started that?) and stares at the hand, warm on his top of his jeans.

As he watches, it slips along and down the contours of his thigh to finger the inseam and Dean glances at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam’s staring ahead blankly but yes, that is definitely his hand on Dean’s leg. Dean quirks an eyebrow. “You mind?”

Sam turns to look at him. “What?” Small children and puppies have nothing on the innocence in Sam’s eyes. Dean looks away in self-defense and stares pointedly downward at his own lap. “Oh,” Sam says, like he was just noticing where his hand was. “Sorry.” And instead of moving his massive paw back over to his own side of the car, he moves it straight onto Dean’s crotch.

The Impala swerves as Dean jerks the wheel. “What the _fuck_ , Sam!” His dick is swelling against Sam’s hand and every instinct Dean has is screaming at him to spread his legs wider and close his eyes except for the fact that he was _driving_. “I’m driving here!” Which, you know, kind of required concentration! Yeah, sure, they were somewhere in the desert and there wasn’t much to hit but the Impala wasn’t really meant for off-roading. God, but it was really a bad idea for Sam to be moving his fingers like that…

Sam grips the steering wheel, steadying it and making sure they’re heading straight. “So drive, then,” he says and then sticks his tongue in his cheek and pops the top button of Dean’s jeans.

Dean squeaks and the Impala swerves again. “Not funny, asshole!” His heart is beating rabbit fast in his chest and yeah, this isn’t exactly the first time he’s been offered a handjob in a car but one, he’s _driving_ and two, this is _Sam_. Safe, practical Sam who might not be exactly vanilla in bed but is never reckless. Christ, his dick is practically rolling over and begging for it.

Safe, practical Sam, though, is currently unzipping Dean’s jeans and shoving his hand into Dean’s shorts. Dean jerks forward with a moan, pushing into Sam’s hand despite himself. He reaches out to grab Sam’s wrist but he’s unable to decide if he wants to push Sam away or pull him closer.

Sam, though, is suddenly against Dean’s side, nuzzling at his hair as he grips Dean and whispers “You’d better pull over, Dean. ‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can be good.” To Dean, starting to whine as Sam runs his fingers over Dean’s hard shaft, that sounds like a fantastic idea. You know, before they managed to crash into a cactus or something.

The Impala screeches to a stop on the side of the long stretch of highway, slamming into park and after ripping out the keys, Dean pushes Sam over until he has enough room to turn and straddle Sam’s lap. “Such an asshole,” Dean growls before slamming his mouth down on top of Sam’s. Sam, the bastard, laughs and Dean swallows it with a snarl as he shoves his tongue into Sam’s mouth. Sam tilts his head, getting a better angle as he welcomes Dean in and his wonderfully large hand moves from Dean’s dick. Before Dean can complain, though, Sam slides his hand around behind Dean, shoves his jeans down. He grips Dean’s ass and pushes a finger up inside him without even so much as a by your leave. Dean whines and bucks his hips because hell yes. He’ll forgive Sam anything, even nearly making him crash the Impala, just as long as Sam keeps using his freakishly big hands the way they were meant to be. Keeps using Dean the way he likes to be.

Sam breaks the kiss and moves his head to bite Dean’s neck as his finger starts to push in and out of Dean’s ass, fucking him. “God, Sam,” Dean says, his head lolling back and his hands reaching out to clamp down on Sam’s shoulders to hold himself steady as his body starts to tremble.

“Gorgeous,” Sam replies before biting down again and sucking a mark into Dean’s skin. A second finger joins the first and Dean whimpers, spreading his legs as much as he’s able and pushing backwards. It feels so fucking good, he doesn’t care what he sounds like, what he looks like, spread out on top of Sam, just as long as Sam keeps it up. He’s going to be black and blue tomorrow, too, if they way Sam’s now sucking down his neck is anything to go by. Not that he minds though. Dean’s dick throbs as one word echoes in his head. _Owned_.

“Like my fingers, Dean?” Sam whispers. “Like them inside you?” Dean tosses his head to the side, Sam’s raspy voice sending shivers down his spine. “You’ve got to the way you’re spreading for me.” His fingers crook and Dean gasps as they graze over his prostate. “Mine.”

Dean’s dick leaks, smearing against Sam’s plaid shirt as the rough fabric teases the head. Sam wiggles his fingers again and sparks arc through Dean’s body. He hisses and pushes up against the top of the Impala, flattening his back to her. His baby really was not made for this kind of position but Dean can’t be bothered with the discomfort at the moment. “Sammy,” he pants, not caring how needy he sounds.

Sam’s free hand slides over Dean’s stomach, up his chest and grips his shoulder. “Yeah,” Sam says, pulling back to lean against the seat. Dean whines and tries to follow, tries to get Sam’s hot, wet mouth back on his neck but Sam pushes him away. “Want to look at you,” Sam whispers. “Want to see you getting so hot over having my fingers inside you.”

As Sam fucks Dean with his fingers, Dean bites his lip, trying to stave off his orgasm as he feels it build. The pressure is like a tidal wave being held back by a faulty levee. Dean whines and licks his lips. “That’s so hot,” Sam moans, “Need some help?” and the next thing Dean knows is that his mouth is being opened as Sam’s fingers slip inside. There’s really no other choice: Dean sucks at Sam’s fingers, tongue wrapping around them and stroking. “Fuck yeah, Dean,” Sam says, and slams the fingers of his other hand hard into Dean’s ass before holding still. “Fuck yourself,” Sam urges, “show me how much you like it.”

Dean whines around Sam’s hand, his thighs already beginning to move. He’s desperate now, he needs more, and damn Sam for stopping in the middle of it. He lifts himself, back raising up against the Impala’s top before slamming himself back down, gasping how Sam’s fingers shove into him and open him up wide. He rolls his hips, loving the feel of Sam inside of him and Sam purrs. “So fucking gorgeous, Dean…” He leans in to flick his tongue at Dean’s nipple and when Dean lifts up again in the rhythm his body’s trying to set, Sam meets him, holding him against the roof of the Impala as he mercilessly fucks his fingers into Dean.

“Sammy!” Dean shouts, twisting his head away as he comes, his balls tightening and liquid heat exploding through his nerves. His orgasm burns through his body, sparking before shorting out and, shuddering, he collapses onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam, though, the sadistic bastard, keeps going, watching Dean try to squirm away from the over sensitized twinges now starting to echo through his body. Dean jerks to the side, instinctually trying to escape but Sam follows him, teasing his prostate with quick strokes, milking out a few more painful spurts from his dick. Dean swivels his hips and slams harder against the top of the Impala. “Jackass,” he snarls through clenched teeth, “stop it!”

Sam laughs, his fingers stilling and Dean finally opens his eyes to stare at him, caught somewhere between fucked-out and pissed off and unable to do anything about either. Sam catches Dean’s mouth in a slow, languid kiss and Dean decides to forgive him, graciously opening to allow Sam in, tongue meeting Sam’s.

Sam’s fingers are still inside Dean but they’re behaving and holding still, just keeping him filled and Dean moans contentedly. “Mmm,” Sam echoes, his tongue flicking at Dean’s as his free hand cups Dean’s head.

Dean slides his hands from Sam’s shoulders, down his rock hard chest, skips over the mess he made on Sam’s shirt and goes straight to Sam’s dick. Sam groans and lifts his hips and Dean purrs, liking his turn on top. “Want something, Sammy?” he taunts, rubbing Sam through his jeans.

Sam stares at Dean’s mouth and raises a hand to trace his lower lip. Dean happily opens his mouth again to lick Sam’s finger, teasing and inviting with the same gesture. “God,” Sam mutters, pressing inside and Dean swirls his tongue, moaning like a porn star because he knows how much Sam likes the noise.

Dean’s body is loose and languid, the contented hum of the orgasm pushing away traces of dissatisfaction he hadn’t even known he’d had. He keeps sucking Sam’s finger like it’s going out of style but strokes his dick one last time before reaching back to pull up the jeans puddle around his knees. Sam moans a protest, his hand reaching out to grab Dean’s wrist and Dean grins, amused. “Dude, there’s not enough room in here to give you a blowjob and I am not stepping outside the car without my pants.”

Sam surges forward and wraps Dean into another kiss that has Dean’s toes starting to curl. Dean hurriedly jerks his jeans up, the buckle of his belt jingling as he lets it hang loose and lets himself get sucked in for a moment before he shoves Sam back. Dean licks his lips, chasing Sam’s taste, and takes a calming breath before he opens the Impala’s door and steps outside. Panting for it already, Sam watches him sink to knees, turning sideways scooting eagerly to the side of the seat.

Dean strokes along Sam’s inner thigh and licks his lips again, teasing and noting how Sam’s dark eyes track his tongue. “Ready?” he asks and Sam groans, falling back against the Impala’s front seat, his left elbow just barely missing the steering wheel. Dean chuckles and unzips Sam’s jeans, pulling his hard cock out of his already damp underwear to lick at the head.

Sam groans and pulses his hips, forcing Dean to hold him down. The last thing he wants to do is choke on Sam’s monster cock. Again.

He flicks his tongue at the head again, tasting the precome oozing from the slit before sucking the entire head into his mouth, shivering at Sam’s startled gasp. Dean leans forward to swallow more of Sam and Sam slides towards him, trying his damnedest to help. Dean pulls off with a pop, giving Sam a few hard strokes at he grins across the seat at Sam. “Eager, aren’t you Sammy?”

Sam’s hands are already buried in his hair, tugging both as a distraction and because, as Dean knows, he likes the pressure. “Fuck,” he pants. “Stop fucking teasing!”

“Mmm,” Dean says, popping his own finger into his mouth to get it nice and wet. “Payback’s such a bitch, isn’t it?”

“I just watched you come apart in my _lap_ , Dean—fuck!” He cuts off with a gasp as Dean pushes a wet finger against his hole. Dean purrs and licks cat-like under the head of Sam’s cock as he teases Sam with his finger. Sam spreads wider, his hips lifting even despite Dean’s attempts to hold him down. “Should’ve just fucked you…” Sam mutters. “Gonna fucking kill me.”

“Aw, Sammy,” Dean teases. “You know I’d never leave you hanging.” He pushes his finger in and holds Sam down as best as he’s able as he sucks him down until he chokes—damn gag reflex anyway. Sam shouts and twists towards the Impala’s seat, fighting the dual pleasure coursing through his nerves.

There’s few things in the world that Dean likes better than getting reamed by Sam’s monster cock, or Hell, reamed by Sam’s monster anything—hands, tongue, whatever—the boy’s talented—but he’s got to admit there’s just something so satisfying about giving a blowjob. Dean loves to watch Sam come apart and know that he’s responsible for it. To know that he can take care of Sam. Swirling his tongue, Dean redoubles his efforts, bobbing his head up and down Sam’s shaft. He crooks his finger the same merciless way Sam had been doing to him, stroking over Sam’s prostate

With a gritted “Fuck…” Sam comes, pulsing down Dean’s throat and Dean swallows it eagerly, trying not to make a mess. It’s not that he minds the taste—not at all—but it’s really the possibility of having to clean Sam’s spunk off the Impala’s interior that has him making sure he catches every drop. Sam shudders and jerks as each spurt is wrenched out of him before finally, with a sigh, he reaches down to fist a hand in Dean’s hair to pull him off. Dean grins, getting one last lick in and watching Sam’s helpless shiver before Sam fully gets himself out of reach. Dean grins and flicks out his tongue at Sam who’s pushed himself up to stare lazily at Dean. Paybacks.

Using his leverage on Dean’s head, Sam urges Dean back into the Impala and Dean does, crawling over Sam’s prone body in the seat. Dean kneels over Sam and grins as Sam pulls him into a kiss to lick out his own taste. Dean’s never been quite able to figure it out, but he likes tasting himself on Dean—his mouth, his skin, his ass, anywhere. Dean happily lets him do it, dropping to his elbows to better align himself.

Sam gives him one last, quick kiss before laying back against the seat to smile up at him. “Feel better?” Sam asks and Dean frowns, puzzled. Sam runs his freakishly large hands over Dean’s ass, though, and Dean’s distracted for a few moments, just thinking about how perfectly they cup him. He’s not exactly 16 anymore but for those hands, Dean thinks he might be able to get it up again. Sam’s smile grows bigger and he leans up to nuzzle at the marks he made on Dean’s throat. “Mmm,” Sam says, “mine.”

Dean shivers and feels his dick give a weak jump in his jeans. “Yeah,” he says not knowing what he’s agreeing to other than it feels awfully damn good.

Sam nips at one of the hickeys and pulls Dean flush against him. “Not going anywhere, Dean…” Dean can’t deny the warmth spreading in his chest at the words even if he’s still a little confused as to why Sam feels he needs to say them.

Dean knows, though, he’s about to get all fluttery just like a damn girl at the way Sam’s cuddling him so he distracts himself by wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck to mouth at his jaw. He lowers himself wiggles his hips against Sam’s, not even caring about the mess he might be smearing onto his jeans. “Ready to find some place stop for the night?” Dean asks, arching an eyebrow. It’s only two o’clock but they didn’t have anywhere to be, right?

Sam squeezes Dean’s ass. “Ready to fuck you into a mattress,” he rasps and that’s all Dean needs to know it’s _really_ time to find a motel.

He scrambles over Sam, pushing him back onto the passenger side of the Impala and starts the car. When he glances back over at Sam, Sam smiling at him again. “What?” Dean asks suspiciously. Sam doesn’t answer, just leans over real slow and tilts his head to fit his mouth alongside Dean’s neck. Dean moans, his eyes closing and his dick jerking to life as Sam sucks yet another mark onto his neck. When Sam’s done, he leans back and grins. Dean’s eyes flutter open and he stares at Sam. “What was that about?”

Sam taps the mark with a finger. “The rest are on the other side,” he says. “I wanted something to look at.” He presses in, listening to Dean’s hiss. “And just wanted to make sure you know who you belonged to.”

Dean’s licks his dry lips and he drops his eyes to stare at the stain on Sam’s shirt. All it really means is another shirt they’re going to have to throw in the laundry before Sam can wear it out in public but Dean’s stupid, fluttery heart is insisting it means something else. Sam catches his gaze and grins down at the stain, too. “You’ll forgive me if I change into something else, right?” he asks and Dean starts but he covers it with blustery bravado.

“Well I certainly don’t think you should be getting out of the car like that, Sammy.”

Sam grins and pulls the shirt over his head, baring his chest to Dean’s hungry eyes. “C’mere,” Sam says, crooking a finger and though he’s confused, Dean follows.

“Start this again and we won’t get anywhere…” he complains.

Sam grabs the back of his head, hauling him close. “I’m not starting anything. I’m finishing it.” Dean furls his brow and stares up at Sam who laughs. “Pick a spot, Dean,” he explains, “because I want one, too.”

If Dean wasn’t hard before, he is now, full and throbbing. “You want me to…?”

“Yeah…” Sam breathes and he’s barely got the word out of his mouth before Dean’s latched onto a section on the left side of his chest, sucking a mark just under his nipple. Sam groans and cups the back of Dean’s head, encourage him closer as Dean worries the skin with his teeth. Dean closes his eyes and enjoys the taste of Sam, wallows in the overwhelming feeling of marking him.

When he lets go, the hickey is just starting to bloom on Sam’s skin, deep and red and Dean licks at it like he can’t get enough. He hadn’t wanted to mark Sam’s neck or any place were people could see because with Dean all marked up too, people would just know without having to be told. But this—a mark to be hidden under Sam’s shirt—is just for him and Sam to know. His. Sam pants and presses a hand against himself. “Jesus, Dean…” he moans. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to a motel.”

Dean bites his lip and stares at Sam for all of two seconds. “Backseat.” Sam nods and Dean’s stupid heart flutters again at the thought of Sam claiming him again in the backseat of the Impala.

Before Dean can scramble out of the car, though, Sam grabs him again and sucks him into another kiss. Dean goes eagerly, moaning for it and wrapping himself around Sam. Sam’s big hands wander across his back, holding him tight and Dean feels safe. Feels like he’s home. “Fucking perfect,” Sam whispers when he finally pulls away and Dean whines, more than ready to get fucked. Sam’s apparently on the same page because he dives for his door at the same time Dean lunges for his.

A quick fuck to get them through the long, boring stretch of road and then they’ll be heading definitely more east and Dean’s stupid heart won't stop fluttering. 


End file.
